MONEY MAKES THE WORLD SPIN

Chapter Four: The Boy Who Should’ve Died

Darkness swallowed everything. Salt water. Metal. Screams. Then nothing. A pulse woke him, A ragged, stabbing breath punched Jace Carter’s lungs as he jolted awake, coughing violently. His vision blurred. Salt stung his eyes. His body throbbed like a broken instrument.

He was alive. Somehow, Waves slammed into him, choking his gasp with seawater. He kicked, instinct more than thought, and his legs met open space. He was floating. Alive. Free. But where was the plane? Where was Elena?

He tried to scream her name, but it came out a rasp,Through the haze, he saw something burning in the distance. A flaming hulk, the last remnants of the plane, now sinking into the black sea like a dying god. A few yards away floated a case. The briefcase.

Elena’s voice echoed in his mind: “The vault key! Don’t let it”

Jace forced his limbs to move, swimming toward it with everything he had left. The sea pulled at him, cold and endless. But the case was all that mattered, He reached it, clutched it to his chest, and let the tide drag him.

Hours passed. Maybe minutes. He didn’t know. But eventually, he blacked out. He woke on sand. Sunlight roasted his back. His mouth was cracked. His shirt was torn. And his fingers still clutched the briefcase like it was fused to his bones.

His vision slowly adjusted. Palm trees. A rocky coastline. No signs of civilization. He was stranded. Alive. Alone. And somewhere, Lucien Ward was celebrating. Jace stood, shaky and bruised. His ribs screamed. His head throbbed. But he was alive. That meant something.

That meant Lucien had failed, again. He opened the briefcase. The drive was still inside. A little wet, but intact. The gun Elena packed was gone, but the burner phone had miraculously survived.

He pressed the power button. Nothing. Dead battery. He glanced around. No one. No rescue team. No coast guard. Just him and the ghost of what came next.

He spent the next hour searching the jungle at the island’s edge. It wasn’t large, more a jagged cluster of trees and sharp cliffs than a real landmass. No signal. No boats. No signs of Elena, And that haunted him more than anything.

Had she died in the crash? Ejected before it? She had saved his life more than once. She was more than a protector. She was his only link to the truth, and the war they’d just begun, He lit a signal fire at the beach using driftwood and the last of a flare he’d found in the surf, Then he waited.

Three hours later, just before sunset, a boat appeared on the horizon Small. Black. Fast. Not a rescue team. Not military. Too clean. Jace ducked behind a boulder, heart pounding. The boat slowed as it approached the island. Two men stepped out, both in dark tactical gear, scanning the beach. “Coordinates were accurate,” one said into a comm.

“They sure he’s alive?” the other asked.

“No body was found. Lucien wants confirmation.” Jace’s blood turned cold. Lucien had sent hunters. And they were here to finish the job.

He backed away quietly, slipping into the tree line. The terrain worked in his favor, thick underbrush, uneven paths, The men moved slowly, methodically, weapons drawn. He needed a weapon. An advantage. A way off this rock, But his hand was already at his belt, and his belt buckle? Metal. Sharp.

He unhooked it silently, found a jagged branch nearby, and fashioned a crude spike, Not ideal. But better than nothing, He crouched low as the men separated, combing the trees, He waited. Listened. Then pounced.

The first man didn’t see him coming, Jace jammed the spike into his neck, grabbed his gun, and fired once, clean and fast, at the second man approaching through the trees, Both dropped. Jace stood over them, shaking. He’d killed before. In defense.

In chaos, But this felt different. Calculated. He checked their bodies. One had a satellite phone, encrypted but GPS active, He activated the emergency beacon.  “If Lucien can find me,” he muttered, “so can someone else.” Then he dragged both bodies toward the surf and let the sea take them.

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Two hours later, another boat appeared. Faster. Sleeker, He stayed hidden until the moment it anchored. Then a figure stood on deck,  soaked in saltwater, hair slicked back, blood trailing down one arm.

Elena. Jace sprinted across the beach. She collapsed into him. “You’re alive,” he said, holding her up.

“So are you,” she replied with a weak smile. “Didn’t expect that.”

“Neither did I.”

She looked around. “We need to move. They’ll send more.”

Jace helped her into the boat. Once they were off the island, she dug into her backpack and pulled out a medkit. “What now?” he asked, wincing as she cleaned a cut on his temple.

She glanced at the briefcase. “You still have the drive?” He nodded.

“Then now,” she said, “we go find Darius Feng.”

Twelve hours later – Kowloon, Hong Kong, The city pulsed with life, neon and steel and sound. Elena and Jace moved through the crowds in silence, blending in with thousands of anonymous faces, They stopped in front of an old temple converted into a teahouse.

“This is where he last showed up,” Elena said. “But no one sees Darius unless he wants to be seen.”

“And if he doesn’t?”

She smirked faintly. “Then we make him want to.” They entered.

Inside, the smell of jasmine and incense filled the air. The host, an elderly woman with sharp eyes, stared at them wordlessly.

“We’re looking for the Dragon’s Whisper,” Elena said softly, The woman’s gaze didn’t shift, but she nodded once and led them to a staircase hidden behind a silk curtain. At the top, they entered a dark room lit only by red lanterns.

And there,  seated cross-legged before a jade sculpture, was Darius Feng, A man in his fifties. Calm. Impossibly still. Dressed in a grey robe with a gold ring on his left hand, the Carter seal. He didn’t look up.

“Elena,” he said. “You survived.”

“Yes,” she replied. “So did he.”

Darius finally looked up His gaze landed on Jace,  piercing, unreadable. “The boy who should’ve died,” he said. “Twice in one week. Impressive.” Jace said nothing.

Darius stood, slowly, with the grace of a predator. “Tell me why I shouldn’t kill you now.”

Elena moved to intercept, but Darius held up a hand. “Your presence means war has already begun.”

He stepped forward, inches from Jace’s face. “Do you even know what your grandfather really did? What crimes he covered with all that money?”

Jace’s jaw tensed. “Do you want power?” Darius asked, voice like smoke. “Or do you want truth?”

Jace held his stare. “Both.”

Darius smiled darkly. “Then you better be ready to bleed for it.”